Merry Christmas, Beautiful
by 2OwlsATweeting
Summary: He would tell her that he was allergic to the tree, that the Christmas carols were annoying, or the decorations were a waste of space and buying gifts was simply a waste of time and money. And while some of this might be slightly true, he had never told her the real reason he resented Christmas. HOLIDAY DRAMIONE
1. The Gift: Part One

**Disclaimer: Hi guys! As of late, I have been really in the Christmas mood, so I decided to write this two-part Holiday Dramione one-shot. Make sense? :) Just so we are clear; I own none of these amazing characters. They all belong to the equally brilliant J. K. Rowling.**

**_The Gift~ Part One _**

"No."

Hermione sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. Her husband could be so difficult sometimes.

"Draco, we've been through this!"

"And we'll go through it again," he replied, not looking up from the Daily Prophet. She growled in frustration, slamming both her palms onto the dinning table.

"You cannot wait until two days before Christmas to go Christmas shopping!"

"Well darling," Draco drawled, calmly setting his paper down and meeting her icy glare, "The way I see it, I have until an hour before we arrive at my parent's house to buy them a gift. Problem solved."

"Problem unsolved. All the shops will be closed."

"That implies you know where I will be buying their fabulous gift, whatever it may be." Draco replied smugly, sipping his coffee.

"Every shop is closed on Christmas! Christmas is a time to relax, spend time with loved ones-"

"I don't see why you can't just go get them a present..."

"They're not my parents!"

"They're your in-laws!"

"I ask you to do one thing for me, one thing, Draco!"

"Are you kidding?" Draco asked, incredulously. "One thing? Who put up all the bloody decorations?"

"Um, that would be me," Hermione shot back.

"Who put the lights up out front, hm? That would be _moui_."

"Why can't you just do this for me?" Hermione cried.

"Because I'm not in the Christmas spirit."

"You're _never_ in the Christmas spirit."

"I don't enjoy Christmas."

"Everyone likes Christmas..." Hermione said softly, looking at her husband.

"Well I don't." Draco replied shortly, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. "I'm off to work."

"Will you be home before your parent's party tonight?"

"Probably not."

"Will you even be coming to the Christmas party tonight?" Hermione's voice broke.

"Don't bet on it." He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and disappeared in a flash of emerald flames. He didn't look back.

Draco groaned, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. His argument with his wife kept playing in his head. It wasn't the holiday itself that Draco strongly disliked. In fact, as a child, Draco had loved the idea of Christmas. What little boy wouldn't love the idea of receiving a new broomstick? Or seeing the look of joy that had flashed across his mother's face when she had tried on the ruby necklace he had bought for her with his own allowance? However, Draco's perspective on Christmas began to change when he entered into his Sixth Year at Hogwarts. His mother had long stopped decorating the Manor. It remained dark and cold. Santa Claus no longer left presents wrapped with ribbon under the tree.

...

_As Christmas drew closer and closer, Draco began to dread the holiday more and more. Christmas morn dawned clear and cold, with snow glittering on the ground. Despite the perfect weather, and the seemingly perfect holiday, Draco began to shake as he put on his best dress robes. Once he had finished dressing, Draco left his room and headed down to the drawing room. It may very well have been the walk a convicted prisoner would once have walked on his way to the exocutiner's noose. And perhaps that's exactly what it was..._

_Draco would never forget the scene that met his eyes as he opened the heavy, mahogany doors as long as he lived. The room was full of silent people, sitting at a long ornate table. The room's usual furniture had been pushed carelessly against the walls and the only source of light in tht room came from the roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror._

_"Draco," said a soft voice that seemed to echo around the silent room. "Welcome."_

_The speaker was seated directly in front of the fireplace, so that it was difficult, at first, for Draco to make out more then his silhouette. As Draco drew closer, the figure's face shone through the gloom, hairless, snakelike, with slits for nostrils and gleaming red eyes with vertical pupils. Draco advanced slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. He met no one's eyes, keeping his own eyes trained on his pale, intwined fingers. He took a shaky breath, before dropping to one knee next to shadowed figure. "My Lord," he whispered hoarsely._

_"Is their anyone gathered here who doubts Draco Malfoy's loyalties?" The man paused, gazing around the room. "Come, come ladies and gentleman surely we are not all at a consensus here..." No one spoke, no one moved._

_"Very well... Who then, will vouch for this boy?" Severus Snape rose from the chair next to Narcissa's._

_"I will vouch for Draco Malfoy." Voldermort's lip curled._

_"Arise, Draco." Draco stood, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. "Do you, Draco Scorpius Malfoy, swear loyalty to your Lord and Master?" Draco looked into his red, glowing eyes._

_"I do." A fiery serpent shot out of the Dark Lord's wand and coiled itself around Draco's left wrist._

_"Do you swear to follow my every order, no matter how absurd it may sound to your own naive ears, without question?"_

_"I swear."_

_"Do you swear to kill anyone that stands in the way of our ambitions, or anyone who may oppose my reign?"_

_"I swear."_

_"Do you swear to take pleasure in torturing and killing filthy Muggles and Mubloods?" The Dark Lord hissed. Her face flashed through his mind. Draco quickly pushed the thought of her away._

_"I swear."_

_"And, should the tides turn, do you swear to give your life to our noble cause?"_

_"I swear." Draco clenched his eyes shut, knowing what was about to happen and wishing he could do something to stop it._

_Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to Draco's porcelain wrist and whispered a single word... "Morsmordre." Draco bit his tongue to stop from screaming in pain. His whole arm felt like it was on fire. His vision began to blur. It was pain beyond pain, a pain he had never experienced before, not even when his father had Crucio'd him. The burning sensation began to recede, but still, a dull, throbbing pain lingered. When Draco opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't. His once unblemished, pale skin was now marred by the Dark Mark. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to go away. He was a monster..._

_..._

Draco sighed again. He shouldn't have snapped at her... How could she have known why he hated-strongly disliked- the holiday if he never told her his reasoning behind it. He would tell her that he was allergic to the tree, that the Christmas carols were annoying, or the decorations were a waste of space and buying gifts was simply a waste of time and money. And while some of this might be slightly true, he had never told her the darker reason he hated the season.

Knowing he was too distracted to get anything done at work, Draco decided to pay his mother a visit. Knowing he was walking into the open-firing range, what with the gala to be held at Malfoy Manor later that evening, talking to his mother always seemed to help. He would never admit it, but she gave some of the best advice in the world.

Narcissa Malfoy hardly batted an eye when her son emerged from the roaring green flames in the parlor. She knew he would stop by... Sooner or later. "So Hermione called me this morning..." Narcissa began, not looking up from the Christmas card she had been looking at.

"Mm," Draco replied, flicking imaginary specs of dust off his impeccable suit.

"Yes," Narcissa continued, "She seemed very distraught... She said the two of you had gotten into a little argument this morning and that you weren't coming tonight." Draco was silent.

"I hope you have changed your mind..."

"You know how I feel about Christmas, Narcissa," Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

"Draco, you ought to tell her..."

"I know mother," his voice had a slight edge to it.

"She already knows about your past. I don't know what you are worried about. She knows that you could do nothing to stop it, she knows that you regret it, she loves you and knows that you beat yourself up everyday because you blame yourself..."

"But don't you see, Mother?!" He cried. "If I tell her the reason I hate Christmas, she will never see Christmas the same way! Because she is such an empathetic woman, she will feel like she has to share my misery with me! I can't burden her with that! It's not hers to bear... Just mentioning Christmas in July brings a smile to her face... I will not destroy that smile or joy." Narcissa finally looked up, meeting her son's dark, swirling eyes.

"I think you already have." She said, softly, Draco shut his eyes, trying to hold back his tears.

"I don't want to lose her," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Narcissa reached over, grabbing ahold of her son's hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze. Draco's eyes shot open when he felt his mother place something cold and metal in the palm of his hand. In his hands laid a ruby necklace.

"It's your necklace," his voice sounded strangled.

"You bought it for me with-"

"With my very own allowance," Draco finished with a small smile.

"I think you should give it to Hermione... It would look much better on a younger neck."

"Are sure?" Draco asked.

"Yes, dear," Narcissa laughed. "Red was never my color anyway."

"Thank you, Mum." Draco leaned down, giving Narcissa a peck on the cheek.

"You are most welcome, Draco... And I hope to be seeing you and your wife later tonight..." Draco paused at the fireplace.

"We'll see." And he was gone.

_To Be Continued..._

**Author's Note: So what did you guys think? Please drop me a review, I always LOVE hearing from you guys :) but no flames, constructive criticism only! So the plan for this Christmas fanfic is to become a collection of cute, fluffy one-shots... I have a lot of different chapter ideas, but not enough time to write all of them this holiday season... However, I will post a new chapter as soon as I can and hopefully that will be before Christmas Day :) If you liked this Dramione fanfic, I recommend that you read my other Dramione Holiday One-shot , The Christmas Shoes. Just a warming: it's kind of sad though... Once agan please R&R and have a merry Christmas!**

**~Katherine**


	2. The Gift: Part Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters... Draco and Hermione belong to J. K. Rowling, who had quite a few opportunities to make Dramione a reality... But she d****idn't. So I'm doing it instead :) A part of Draco and Hermione's conversation about (Spoiler!) was inspired by a Tumblr post. Hope you guys had a Merry Christmas!**

**_The Gift~ Part Two_**

Hermione sighed wearily. She had no idea what to wear for her mother-in-law's Christmas party later that night. At least she wouldn't have to worry about coordinating her outfit withher husband's... Seeing as he wouldn't be coming... A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall. She whipped them away angrily. She didn't understand... How could he hate Christmas so much? And how was she supposed to figure out why he hated the holiday if he never talked with her about it?! She threw her black heels across the room in frustration. She figured a steamy shower would help her calm down.

When Draco cautiously opened the master bedroom door he was greeted by the sound of Christmas carols and running water. It was like music to ears; he didn't have to face his wife... yet. He gently set down the exquisitely wrapped gift onto the cremé and gold coverlet and made his way to the walk-in closet. Dresses and shoes had been pulled carelessly out and strewn hastily across the floor. Draco bent down, picking up the dresses, and placed them carefully onto their appropriate hanger. After he had cleaned up his wife's various articles of clothing, Draco proceeded to rummage through his side of their closet, searching for a white, collared dress shirt and black trousers. He suddenly realized how quiet the room had become... The shower and music had shut off. He grabbed his black shoes and bolted for the door, closing it behind him.

The first thing that caught Hermione's eye when she opened the bathroom door was the gift that had been beautifully wrapped and placed on the king bed along with a bouquet of red roses. She knew that it hadn't been there twenty minutes ago before she had left the bedroom to take a shower. There was a gold tag attached to the cylinder box. _"For You"_ it read. Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. She tore off the wrapping paper and lifted up the lid. Inside, nestled between rose-colored tissue paper, lay a set of lingerie. Lacey, Slytherin green lingerie. She recoiled in disgust, shoving the lingerie back inside and slamming the lid back onto the box. Her husband was such a perverted pig!

She sat on the bed, glaring at the box. There was no way in hell she would be caught dead in such a ghastly color. And there was no way in hell her husband would be seeing her in it tonight! To think that he thought buying her a dozen red roses and some overpriced, uncomfortable lingerie would solve _all_ his problems... the nerve of that man! Hermione laughed out loud. Draco Malfoy was sadly mistaken.

Although the roses were a little romantic... Hermione sighed, looking at the box that seemed to be calling her name. She supposed it wouldn't hurt if she just tried on the lingerie, you know, just to see how it might look if she decided to grant Draco's wishes one night. Not tonight, though. Because she was still mad him.

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, admiring her physique. It didn't look half as bad as she expected... Maybe Draco had been right about one thing... Maybe green was her "color" after all. And it wasn't uncomfortable either... Quite the opposite actually. Hermione sighed, a small smile on her face. Her husband may not know much about the Muggle world, but she had to give him credit... Draco Malfoy certainly knew about lingerie. She walked back over to the box and pulled out the remaining rose tissue paper. She gasped at what she saw. In the bottom of cylinder box lay a stunning evening gown. She lifted it out of the box. It was the Emilio Pucci dress she had said she wanted. She squealed in delight and ran into the closet to put it on.

When she emerged, Draco's throat constricted painfully and it became difficult to breathe. She was wearing the slinky, dark bronze, asymmetric Grecian dress he had bought for her. The silky gown had chained straps and crystal embellished detailing which skimmed the floor, and featured a gold satin-sheen layer and bronze wrap fabric that cut into a high slit to reveal her long, graceful legs. She was beautiful. And she was his. He cleared his throat.

"It looked like you were struggling to find the right outfit to wear tonight..." Draco observed, not glancing up and continuing to button his white dress shirt. His wife started, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Did you do this for me?" She asked him, softly.

"I'm sorry, my love... I- I shouldn't have snapped at you... I was just so angry-" Draco clenched his hand into a fist at his side. Hermione walked over and took his hand into hers and laced them together.

"Will you explain it to me, then?" She asked, stroking his jaw with her thumb. Draco closed his eyes, and felt a silver tear fall onto his cheek.

"I cannot." He whispered.

"Draco. Draco, look at me." His wife's beautiful hazelnut eyes were filled with tears as well. "I want to help you," she whispered, wiping away his tear with her thumb. "But you would have to trust me to do that, wouldn't you?"

Draco sighed, turning his head to avert his wife's gaze. Hermione's hand fell to her side. When Draco stepped outside, onto their balcony, Hermione followed. He leaned against the marble rails, looking down at the garden below.

"I haven't always hated Christmas..." He began, sensing his wife's presence behind him.

"That's kind of hard to imagine," Hermione replied, wrapping her arms around her husband and pressing her cheek against his back.

"Is it? I loved Christmas as a child... See, I always got the newest broomstick." He cracked a smile when Hermione snorted.

"You are so spoiled..."

"I was. Especially at Christmastime..." Hermione didn't need to see her husband's face to know that he was no longer smiling.

"Then what went wrong?" She whispered. Draco took a deep breath and looked heavenward.

"I didn't get a new broomstick Sixth Year..."

"What did you get?" She pried, gently. Draco remained silent but looked away from the sky, turning his icy, cold gaze to his hands. He glared at his left wrist in disgust. Hermione's hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh, Draco... I- I had no idea... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to have to carry that burden... It was never yours to bear."

"When are you going to understand that you don't have to do everything on your own anymore? I'm right here beside you... And I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon."

"This time of year just makes me remember how much I hated myself, how much I still hate myself and all the bad decisions I regret making..."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "No, you're different now. You are a good person..."

"Being a good man for a hundred years will never make up for what I've done in the past!" Draco yelled. "One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness!"

"Though it seems enough to condemn him." Hermione shot back.

"Indeed it is, darling." Draco snarled at her.

"Look at this." Hermione demanded.

"Hermione-"

"No, Draco. Look at what it says on my arm... Read it to me."

"No..." Draco shook his head vehemently.

"It says, 'Mudblood.'"

"Don't you dare call yourself that!"

"Look at it!" She cried. He took her right arm in his hands and gently turned it over. He heard her suck in a breath. He stroked her pale skin with two fingers, tracing the ugly scar.

"It doesn't mean anything," he whispered against her ear. Hermione shivered against his body but didn't respond. She grasped his other arm and pulled it toward her so his Dark Mark was bared. She mirrored his actions, running her fingers in soothing circles against his wrist.

"But don't you see, Draco? Neither does yours." She paused, looking up at him with those wide, brown eyes. "This Mark is a symbol of hatred- of an elitist mindset that is determined by society and prejudiced beyond excuse... It's meant to tear our world apart... It was meant to tear us apart... It's what you once thought you were..." She trailed off, brushing her thumb against the skull of the Dark Mark. She looked up at him, a radiant smile lighting her face. "That's not who you are, Draco. Remember that."

Draco stared at his wife with his piercing grey eyes before leaning down and capturing her lips with his. "I love you," he said breathlessly. "So much... I hope you know that."

"I love you too, Draco," Hermione whispered. "Thank you for telling me why you don't like Christmas..." Draco laughed softly, wrapping his arms around Hermione's smaller frame and pulling her against his chest.

"What? Did you think I was a Scrooge just to piss you off?" He winked at her.

"Well darling," Hermione laughed, "With you I can never tell." Draco smirked.

"I'm just full of surprises aren't I?" There was a strange gleam in her husband's eyes. "Come here. There's something I want to show you..." Draco took Hermione's hand and led her back into the bedroom, in front of the mirror. "Now close your eyes." He instructed.

"Why?" Draco rolled his eyes at his wife's stubbornness. "Just do it." To his surprise, she complied. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his mother's necklace, unclasping the golden chain. Draco swept his wife's long, tamed auburn hair over her bare shoulder, exposing the back of her graceful neck and shoulder blades. His fingers lingered on the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. He placed the ruby necklace around her neck, nipping at her ear. Hermione's body went limp in his arms. "Open your eyes, my love," he whispered.

Hermione gasped when she saw the necklace Draco had placed around her neck. "Oh, Draco..."

"That's 14 carrot gold right there," Draco said, watching his wife's reaction in the mirror. "I bought it when I was ten with my very own money." He sounded proud. "It belonged to my mother... She wants you to have it now."

"Draco... This necklace... It's stunning... It must have cost a fortune!"

"If you were to sell it, we could probably buy a 27,000 square foot house in Turks and Cacaos, just putting it in perspective for you, my darling." He flashed her a smile.

"Draco, I can't accept this," Hermione said, turning to face him.

"You don't like it?" Draco asked.

"No!" Hermione reassured him. "I love it! But Draco... I- I can't wear this necklace. I mean it belonged to your mother and we could feed a whole third-world country with this piece of jewelry!"

"Or buy a house on the beach," Draco interjected. "I love the beach... I know you do too."

"Draco, I don't deserve a piece of jewelry that's this expensive and this nice!" Hermione tried to talk some sense into her husband's thick head.

"No you're right," he conceded. "You don't deserve this necklace... You deserve every jewel in the whole world and I'm sorry that I couldn't get you that."

"What? Draco, that's not what I meant-"

"You are worth every jewel in this world to me, Hermione Malfoy. Without you, I'd be nothing. Without you, I probably wouldn't be here today." Hermione was speechless.

"Draco. I really love the necklace-"

"And me. You love me too."

"Yes," Hermione waved him off. "That too. But I can't take this necklace..."

"For the love of God, woman! Just take the damn gift!"

"I said no, Draco!"

"That word is not in my vocabulary."

"Well then maybe, I should start using it more often..." Hermione snapped at him.

"Fine. I'm prepared to offer you a deal, Mrs. Malfoy... If you accept, and wear, this necklace, I will donate 20% of this necklace's value to a third-world country in Africa. How's that?"

"25%" She said.

"15%" Draco smirked.

"30% or I will burn that lingerie you gave me." Now Hermione was the one who was smirking.

"Fine. 30% and you have to wear the necklace and lingerie."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, darling," Hermione replied causally. "I already am." Draco stared at his wife in awe.

"What? Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're beautiful... And your mine." He growled. Hermione blushed.

"I must say though Draco, you have an exquisite taste for women's lingerie, dresses and jewelry it would seem..."

"Only the best for the wife of the Malfoy heir." Hermione laughed.

"And Malfoy's only get the best that money can buy." Hermione stated.

"Now you understand!" Draco replied, ecstatic that his wife was embracing the oldest and noblest Malfoy tradition. Hermione laughed again, throwing her arms around Draco's neck. Draco decided he would do whatever it took to hear that beautiful sound everyday of his life.

"Merry Christmas, Draco." Hermione said, standing on her tip-toes to give her husband a peck on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Beautiful."

...

A/N: So I thought this might be a nice way to close the Holiday Season... As previously mentioned, this FanFiction is going to be a collection of totally unrelated Christmas one (or two) shots, updated during the Christmas Season. I will be adding my other Dramione one-shot, The Christmas Shoes, tommorow night. I hope you enjoyed this two-shot and a good Christmas Holiday! Please R&R!

~Katherine


	3. The Christmas Shoes

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the song/title. All characters belong to J. K. Rowling and the song "Christmas Shoes" is owned written by Leonard Ahlstorm and Eddie Carswel.**

**Summary: Draco Malfoy discovers the truth about Christmas and learns a little about ****himself too, with the help of a little boy. One-sided Dramione.**

**Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Hugo Weasley **

**Rating: K+**

**WARNING: This fanfic is based off of the the song Christmas Shoes, a heart wrenching song. Character death.**

_**~ The Christmas Shoes~**_

It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. And here he was, still trying to buy that last gift or two. Draco Malfoy was not a last minute person, he never had been and he never would be. He was always punctual and never waited till the last minute. Yet, here he was, in line at Madam Malkin's buying his mother a Christmas gift.

His mother had decorated the Manor for Christmas, much to Lucius's dismay. For weeks Narcissa Malfoy had been singing carols, baking and shopping. His mother loved to entertain and consequently, this holiday season had passed in a blur of parties, dinners and balls. But even with all the decorations, carols and parties, even the white snow on the ground, Draco Malfoy still wasn't in the Christmas spirit.

Standing right in front of him was a little boy, waiting anxiously. Draco checked his watch impatiently. His mother would kill him if he was late for the Christmas feast. He craned his neck around to see what was taking so long. The boy, no older then seven, was tapping his foot against the floor. In his hands he held a pair of Christmas shoes.

He was tall for his age, thin and gangly. His red, curly locks looked as if they hadn't been brushed in weeks. His clothes, worn and old. He was dirty from head to toe and appeared to be shaking from the cold. He seemed like a friendly child as he began speaking with the clerk. Draco pulled out his phone and scrolled through his emails. Might as well get some work done and get ahead.

However, Draco paused when he heard the boy speak.

"Sir," the boy said to the cashier. "I want to buy these shoes, for my Mama, please. It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size. Could you hurry, sir? Daddy says there's not much time... You see she's been sick for quite a while and I know these shoes would make her smile. And I want her to look beautiful if she meets Jesus tonight." Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. This boy's mother was dying...

The little boy began pulling sickle after sickle out of his pocket. He stood there, counting sickles for what seemed like years.

"Son," the clerk said, gently. "There's not enough here." The boy began searching through his pockets, frantically turning each pocket inside out. Then he turned to look at Draco.

Draco stifled a gasp. This was her son... He had her eyes. Her beautiful, doe brown eyes. He remembered how they sparkled when she laughed and how they had looked at him with unconditional love and trust. He had betrayed that trust many a year ago. He had tried to move on. He really had. But he couldn't get her out of his head.

"Mama made Christmas good at our house... Though most years she just did without. So, Tell me Sir, what am I going to do? Somehow I've got to buy her these Christmas shoes," the little boy implored Draco. The boy's eyes were wide, his bottom lip trembling. Draco internally cursed. The boy's mother had pulled this face many times... particularly when she wanted something. And she had gotten it. She had had Draco wrapped around her little pinkie. he would've brought her the moon, had she asked for it.

Draco pulled out ten galleons and put them on the counter. He just had to help this boy, her son. He had to do right by her... if not her, then her son. because Draco loved her... he had never stopped loving her. He had let her go... it was for her own good. She deserved better then him. And as long as he lived, Draco never forgot the look on Hugo Weasley's face when he said, "Mama's gonna look so great!"

Instead of going home, Draco found himself walking along a quaint little street, just on the outskirts of Stratford. He knew immediately which was hers... The lawn was neat and trim, the landscape exquisite. She had always loved the Christmas roses he had bought her. The only light in the house was candles which flickered in the windows. The drapes were drawn shut. To a pedestrian the house would look deserted... But Draco knew better. He walked to the door and left a neatly wrapped present on the stoop, knocked once and Disapperated into the night.

Draco knew he'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love... He knew that God had sent that little boy to remind him just what Christmas was all about...

The day after Christmas a lone figure stood in a graveyard, holding a bouquet of Christmas flowers. Snow had began to fall softly to the ground. The man didn't feel the bite of the wind or the ground beneath his feet. It wasn't possible... She couldn't just be dead... She had died on Christmas Eve of breast cancer. Fate was cruel. She didn't deserve to die... No one really deserved to die... She had a whole life ahead of her... She was supposed to have lots of kids and die peacefully, at an old age... Not like this. He hoped she had gotten his message in time... There was a note, hidden in the book he had gotten her.

"I never stopped loving you."

He didn't sign it... She would know who it was from. He hoped Hugo had said good-bye. He hoped her husband had stayed at her side. He hoped she had tried on the Christmas Shoes.

After that day, the world seemed a little darker... A little colder. His ray of sunshine was gone, lost to the storm. He hoped she was in a better place... A place of joy, a place of hope. A place were suffering and pain was virtually non existent.

He stood there, at her grave, all day, tears pouring down his pale cheeks. He talked to her. Talked to her about life, his feelings and how he was trying to find the strength to move on. He re-lived old memories. The good and the bad. The happy and sad. Their first kiss and their first fight. Their first date and their first break up. Their wedding and their divorce. Their baby who was buried next to his mother...

As the night progressed the sky cleared and the stars, shining brightly appeared. He looked up and saw their star, twinkling so far away. It was in that moment he realized he had been forgiven. She forgave him.

**A/N: I hope you guys had a great Christmas and I hope your new year is going great so far and stays that way! Please review :)**

**~Katherine**


End file.
